Nothing Special
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #31 A brief visit to Wrigley's Pleasure Planet holds an ugly surprise for Kirk, and bad news awaits him back aboard the Enterprise.


Though it had been years since Jim Kirk visited Wrigley's Pleasure Planet, the nightlife had not changed a bit. It was still garish, rowdy, and vulgar. Wearing civvies, he ducked into a casino in the heart of the capital's main entertainment district. On a centrally located stage, a pair of scantily clad Orion women gyrated to a heavy, erotic beat.

Kirk found an unoccupied table and sat down. After ordering a drink from a passing waitress, he scanned the odd collection of aliens making use of the gaming machines, and stifled a yawn. He had always hated doing shore leave alone, but his position as captain of the Enterprise made inviting a crewmember awkward. Anyone but a close friend was apt to feel pressured by his rank. At one time he would simply have hung out with Doctor McCoy, but considering the trouble between them, that was out of the question. He was looking for some relaxation, not heartburn.

His brandy arrived. As he drank, a shouting match erupted at the far end of the casino. He craned his neck for a better view. When the fight broke up, he turned back to find McCoy standing beside his table, steely eyes boring into him.

Kirk cursed under his breath.

Helping himself to a seat, McCoy arched his brows and asked, "Looking to pick up a little girl?"

Kirk glowered. He was sick to death of McCoy's sly references to Spock's daughter. "Looking to lose some teeth? As I recall, I owe you a good punch in the mouth."

McCoy leaned across the table. "Go ahead, Jim. Take a shot. I can tell you want to."

Kirk was sorely tempted. Downing his brandy in a gulp, he rose abruptly and left the casino. Outside, neon signs flashed their gaudy colors over the jostling crowd on the sidewalk. A warm night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and other, more potent products. He began to walk. Suddenly, someone grabbed hold of his arm. He whirled, expecting to find McCoy and came face to face with a besotted young man.

"Hey," his accoster slurred, "I know who you are."

"I doubt it." Kirk shrugged free and strode away from the scene, but the fellow pursued him.

"You're James Tiberius Kirk. Used to be an admiral, before you got busted. A real big shot."

Kirk paused long enough to flash him a very deliberate smile. "Friend, you're mistaken. I know who you're talking about and he doesn't look a thing like me."

"Yeah, sure." The young man took hold of Kirk's sleeve. "I know the guy who used to be your first officer. The Vulcan. He's an asshole, do you know that? I bet you're an asshole, too."

The smile faded from Kirk's face. Grabbing the boy's shirtfront with both hands, he pulled him into the shadows of an alley. "Look," he warned, keeping his hold, "you can say anything about Kirk that you like, but I suggest you keep your drunken mouth shut about Captain Spock."

The boy shrugged and rambled on. "Never should've put him in charge of the academy. Even his _daughter_ thought so. I could tell."

Kirk felt an electric jolt of surprise. His hands tightened on the boy's shirt. "His _daughter?_ What the hell do you know about Spock's daughter?"

The young man smirked. " _Plenty_. Came through here a few days ago in her cute little Patrol uniform. Oh, I didn't let on that I knew who she was. Hot little number, I can tell you that much. Didn't get it from her old man—not that he _looks_ old—but I bet he's as old and used up as you, maybe even older. I wonder what he'd say if he knew she took me for a romp?"

Kirk flinched. He felt like strangling the smart-alec—anything, just to shut him up. "That's a filthy lie," he declared. "You don't know his daughter, you don't know anything about her."

"Oh, don't I?" came the cool response. "Used to go by T'Beth, but now it's Cristabeth. She got us this little room, you see, and then she started to—"

Kirk's anger exploded. Shoving the drunk against a dingy wall, he drew back his fist, fully intending to follow through. A hand clamped onto his arm before he could throw the punch. McCoy swung him around.

"Jim!" hissed the doctor. "Think, man—he's not worth it!"

The boy staggered away from the wall, laughing. "She's _trash_ , do you know that? Captain Spock's baby girl is a worthless piece of trash."

Kirk felt his blood boiling. Pulling free of McCoy, he confronted Little Big Mouth. "Your name—what the hell is your name?"

The young man bowed with a tipsy flourish. "Name's not important. Ex-Starfleet cadet, thanks to your Vulcan buddy. Do me a favor. Tell him what I said about his daughter, okay?"

oooo

Kirk was still seething when he got back to the Enterprise. McCoy followed him step for step into the captain's quarters. Trying to ignore the doctor, Kirk poured himself a stiff drink from his illicit stock of Romulan Ale. McCoy just stood there, staring at him.

"Bones, I'd offer you a drink," Kirk said tartly, "but of course you're leaving now. _Right_ now."

McCoy watched him take a swallow of the potent blue liquor. "Do you think that's wise, Captain, considering your state of mind?"

"There's nothing wrong with my mind," Kirk snapped, and went into his sleeping alcove. He set his glass on the pullout tray beside his bed. Then he kicked off his shoes and stretched out, fully clad.

McCoy stood near the alcove. "Jim, he was just a drunken kid."

Kirk put his hands under his head. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on the soothing ale-warmth, and relax. A young smirking face dangled like a punching bag, just out of reach.

McCoy spoke again. "In case you didn't notice, you almost lost it down there. You're not handling situations the way you used to. Just like you and your first officer. It's been over three years since Commander Vladis came on board. I swear, you've never once given her a decent chance."

At the mention of Vladis, Kirk's eyes popped open. "She's a nit-picker."

"Oh," McCoy said with sarcasm, "and Spock wasn't?"

"Spock may be a nit-picker, too, but he always knew when to speak up and when to keep his mouth shut."

"Like hell," declared McCoy. "Spock is no yes-man. I've seen you two go the rounds plenty of times."

"Well," countered Kirk, "at least he never mothered me to death."

McCoy raised one eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of the Vulcan. _"Mothered._ Now there's an interesting choice of word. I never stopped to think about it, but Vladis _does_ look a little like Winona Kirk—red hair and all."

Kirk sighed. "Not hardly, Bones."

The doctor moved a little closer to the bed. "Then tell me, Jim. What is it about her that bothers you? The truth, now." Kirk glared at him. "I think you're mad at Vladis because she's not Spock. I think you want things to go back to the way they were, but it'll never happen because Spock's a married man and he's running the academy now. And there's something else eating you, too. That kid down there called you _old—_ and it's true. We _are_ getting old—all of us but Spock, that is. Over the years, _he's_ hardly changed."

"Oh, come on…"

But Bones was not finished yet. "And then there's T'Beth, all grown up. _She's_ graduated from teddy bears to one-night stands. And she's eating on you, Jim, really eating away."

Kirk closed his eyes against the painful truth of McCoy's words. He _did_ miss Spock. He _did_ resent the aging process. And as for T'Beth—he envisioned Spock's daughter as he last saw her in a holo suite on Starbase 12—stunningly beautiful, dangerously seductive. She had lured him into a kiss that could easily have led to worse things, but somehow he found the strength to stop. There had been an ugly argument, and he slapped her. Ever since that incident, he had hoped that she might, just might, rethink her behavior. As if one slap would put an end to her predatory jaunts, as if one word from James T. Kirk was all she needed to turn her whole life around. Well, now he knew that she had never stopped chasing men…and catching them. Now he knew that he was nothing special. His opinion meant nothing to her. Nothing.

He sighed deeply. "One of these days she's going to pick up the wrong guy—that is, if the Donaris don't get her first. It worries me, knowing that she's out there flying around in some little rattletrap fighter. Do you know what the survival statistics are like for rookie pilots in the Sy-Don Corridor?"

"I'm sure Spock does," McCoy said.

"He refuses to talk about it—but he must be half out of his mind with worry, too."

"Knowing Spock, he'd probably tell you that worry is illogical."

"He has," Kirk admitted.

It was the longest, most civil conversation they'd had since T'Beth was sixteen, and McCoy first suspected them of inappropriate behavior. "Wait," Kirk said as the doctor turned to leave him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up, faced him. "Bones, I never lied to you about her. My God, she's _still_ just a kid. Do you really think I've slept with her?"

McCoy's expression hardened. "T'Beth was never 'just a kid', and we both know it."

Kirk was more frustrated than angry. "If you were anyone else, I'd tell you where to go. How long are you going to carry on with this grudge of yours? Bones, listen to me: _nothing's happened."_

"Nothing?" McCoy gave him a long, searching look. "I almost think you believe that."

Kirk's heart sank as the doctor turned from him and walked out of the cabin. For a long moment he sat staring at empty air. Then he gulped more ale, flipped off the lights, and lay down. Darkness closed over him, bringing the muted sounds of the Enterprise nearer. She was quiet, like always, in stationary orbit. So quiet that his thoughts seemed to swarm and buzz inside his head.

He was almost relieved when a voice broke over the intercom, even though it belonged to his second-in-command. "Captain, hope I didn't wake you, but new orders just came in—Priority 1."

He reached for his bedside viewer and swung it into position. "I'll take it here, Vladis."

The signal decoded itself into the image of Admiral Bob Caflisch. "Jim," he said without preamble, "there are indications that the Donaris are about to launch a major offensive against Sydok…"

Kirk bolted upright, his pulse racing.

Bob's message continued. "The Enterprise is to proceed immediately to the Sy-Don Corridor and employ whatever means necessary to preserve Federation interests." He gave a taut, apologetic smile. "You're the only starship in the area, so I don't need to tell you…get moving."

Kirk's hand was already on the intercom. "Vladis, recall all crewmembers to the ship at once, and prepare for warp-out. I'm on my way to the bridge."

"Yes, Captain," came the crisp reply.

He took a moment to try and calm himself, but his head swam from liquor and panicky thoughts of T'Beth. Barely twenty, and there she was, out flying around in the most incendiary corridor this side of the Romulan Neutral Zone. As defenseless as a gnat in the jaws of impending war.

Rummaging in a drawer, Kirk located his supply of Counternol and swallowed a capsule. Then he hurried into his uniform and was on his way.


End file.
